


Because I could not stop for Death (she kindly stopped for me)

by grelleswife



Series: Kuroshitsuji Ladies Appreciation Week 2020 [6]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: (ruminations thereon), Bisexual Female Character, Death, F/F, Female Pronouns for Grell Sutcliff, Fluff and Angst, Grelle is a good girlfriend, Lesbian Character, Mortality, Nina needs to relax once in a while, Trans Female Character, that's how it be sometimes, this turned out a tad more melancholy than anticipated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:49:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24446869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grelleswife/pseuds/grelleswife
Summary: “I guess even goddesses need their rest.” Her fingertips, smudged with graphite, stroked Grelle’s jaw.“As do tailors."Lately, Nina Hopkins has been consumed by a work load that never seems to lighten. Grelle reminds the vivacious tailor that she should give herself time to just be.
Relationships: Nina Hopkins/Grell Sutcliff
Series: Kuroshitsuji Ladies Appreciation Week 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1758298
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Because I could not stop for Death (she kindly stopped for me)

**Author's Note:**

> The title was inspired by the opening line of Emily Dickinson's well-known poem.

Her candle had melted down to a dripping stub, but Nina continued to sketch. She sat at her bedroom desk in a nightgown that would have been shockingly indecent by most standards, frowning thoughtfully at the designs in progress.

The new season was fast approaching, and there were dozens of bold new ideas she wished to try…but the days sped by at a dizzying pace. It seemed that the harder she worked, the less she accomplished, and deadlines for commissions loomed ever nearer.

“What on earth are you doing, _chérie_? Working yourself to the bone at this time of night? _Quelle horreur_!”

The tailor nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Grelle!”

Nina put down her pencil and turned around, her hand coming to rest on the back of the chair. She raised a reproachful eyebrow at her lover. The reaper who’d just materialized behind her wore a shoulderless red blouse and sleek, formfitting black skirt, and her hair was done up in a pretty French braid. Grelle Sutcliff's arrival was unexpected, but her beauty was undeniable.

“Forgive me, darling, but I was _dying_ to see you. We haven’t had a chance to talk properly in three weeks.”

Grelle’s chartreuse eyes turned plaintive, and Nina felt a pang of guilt. They’d corresponded, of course, exchanging letters by pigeon, but she just hadn’t had time for a proper rendezvous. Work had consumed her as of late.

She stood up and took Grelle’s hands in hers, raising them to her lips for a kiss.

“ _That’s_ more like it,” Grelle purred.

“I’m sorry,” Nina sighed. “First we had two girls leave the shop for new positions, then I got saddled with more orders than I can shake a stick at, and now we have to worry about a late fabric shipment that still hasn’t come in—”

A pair of lips cool as the autumn wind brushed against Nina’s, silencing her. “You’re forgiven.” Then, Grelle’s hands flew to her waist, and Nina looped her arms around the reaper’s neck. When their tongues met, heat bloomed in her lower belly like a flame leaping into life.

Grelle drew back with a glint of laughter in her eye and stroked Nina’s flushed cheek.

“And now you’re paying attention to _me_ , as you should.”

“Not everything revolves around you, you know,” Nina teased, stepping back and crossing her arms over her bosom (which she noticed Grelle eyeing none too discretely).

Grelle’s lashes fluttered. “Just _most_ things.” Her smile faded. “Are you quite all right, _mon fleur_? You don’t look like you’ve been getting enough sleep.”

Her fingers traced the tender skin beneath Nina’s eyes, which had turned a dark, bruised shade of violet. She’d try to conceal the signs of her late nights with makeup, but Grelle had a keen gaze.

“Not exactly…but these designs won’t make themselves,” Nina sighed.

“You can’t skimp on your beauty rest, darling. It’s essential.”

Without further ado, Grelle grabbed Nina by the wrist and dragged the tailor to her bed.

“Grelle, what—”

The reaper flopped down, pulled Nina beside her, and threw her arms around her.

“You shan’t draw another line tonight, Nina Hopkins. We’ll gossip to our hearts’ content, and I will shower you in love and affection, and _you_ ,” she kissed the tip of Nina’s nose for emphasis, “will _relax_.”

“But there’s no time…”

“There’s never enough time, _mon amour_ , neither for you mortals nor for death itself,” Grelle murmured wistfully. “Some reapers say that everything slowed to a crawl around them when they became gods, but that wasn’t the case for me. Minutes, years…they rush around me like a fleeting breeze. If I try to lay hold of them, they slip between my fingers. I run hither and yon collecting souls, those withered leaves that fall incessantly from the tree of life, but there are always more fluttering down into eternal slumber. I’d drive myself mad if I didn’t stop _do_ ing for a minute or two, and just let myself _be_.”

It was hard to imagine this passionate woman coming to a standstill of her own accord. Just when Nina thought she had Grelle figured out, she’d glimpse a new part of the pattern she hadn’t noticed before, and be enthralled anew by the scarlet shadow with whom she shared her hidden hours.

“I guess even goddesses need their rest.” Her fingertips, smudged with graphite, stroked Grelle’s jaw.

“As do tailors. When you run yourself ragged, you can’t perform at your peak; it’s like trying to sew with frayed thread that’ll break if looked at askance. It worries me to no _end_ when you disregard your own health, darling. And your time is…limited. Not every second should be spent toiling and striving.”

Nina suddenly understood. Though Grelle found the subject too painful to discuss, Nina knew her own inescapable mortality often weighed on the goddess’s mind.

“Ladies shouldn’t be greedy,” the reaper went on. “The shop is important to you, and I respect that. It’s one of the things I admire about you. All…all I ask for is the scrap basket of spare minutes my love graciously lends me.” Grelle’s voice quavered.

_How could I be so selfish?_

In a sense, the tailor was the luckier of the pair. Provided her health held firm, she’d enjoy a full life in the company of the woman she loved. When the sand in the hourglass ran out, she would enter that winter's sleep from which no human awoke, drifting off peacefully in Grelle’s arms. Her lover had sworn to stay at Nina’s side until the end, and promised that she would be the one to read the cinematic record of her soul.

Death didn’t have that luxury. Grelle’s existence would drag on for centuries until the goddess earned her salvation, and she would do so without Nina.

The tailor’s work would be waiting for her tomorrow. There would likely always be work; Nina didn’t fancy herself the type to retire. But her moments with Grelle were precious, like shooting stars hurtling joyously through the sky for a bright instant. Once lost, they couldn’t be reclaimed. She mustn’t throw them away.

She snuggled closer to Grelle and smiled at her.

“All right, then, I’ll stay put…but only if you promise to spend the night.”

Grelle beamed, radiant with happiness.

“Of course, dearest Nina.”

Time still rushed by at its relentless pace, but it didn’t faze Nina. She relaxed in Grelle Sutcliff’s embrace, and let herself be.


End file.
